A Lapse in Reality
by Musicalrain
Summary: A young woman from our world is the victim of a near-fatal accident that transports her through the Beyond into Thedas with no memory of who she is - and with elfish ears. AU post-DAII story filled with OCs. Focus on Dalish. Real-world OC insert. Eventual OC/Zevran. ON TEMPORARY HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

A Lapse in Reality 

_Note: This story is AU post-DAII and filled with OCs._

…...

It's cold, dark, and rainy. I'm miserable as I trek down the muddy dirt road. I scrub at my face to try to get feeling to it again. I love the rain, the mist, the feel of the morning dew on the plants I run my hands across, but I hate the big, fat almost icy raindrops that are falling down and drenching me now. I'm miserable. The earth is too wet to make camp, and I can't find a hidden place I can huddle in. I looked; no crevasses between rocks, no hollowed out trunks of trees, no tiny caves. Nothing but dark and rain.

As I turn around the closest bend to the right, my sensitive ears – so sensitive I can hear a mouse fart, I've been told – start to pick up the distant pleading cries of a frightened horse. My hand goes around the hilt of my sword as I hesitantly start to approach the source of the cries. As I get close enough to make out details in the eerie glow of the cloud-covered moon, I see a horse tethered to a small cart just barely off the road's stone-marked path struggling to free itself of the deep mud that had been hidden in the grasses. The horse's master is on the ground futilely pulling at the reins. I can see that it's never going to move like that.

I stand from the edge of the marked road, a few feet behind the master's back, and call out to him as I raise my voice to be heard over the pattering of rain, "I can help you! Will you let me?" I know from experience, that it is not wise to go up and offer aid without permission to a stranger on the road. The scars are still healing from my last attempt.

The back of the horse's master stiffens visibly, and then the cloaked figure turns a little and gestures for me to come forward with a short wave. I think I startled him. I come up, but don't look at the master as I cup my hands around the frightened animal's mussel and whisper, "Aneth ara. Ma din emma harel. Emma lethallan." I had felt the cloaked figure's eyes on the very visible scabbard of my sword as I approached, but now he abruptly brought his head up and tilted it to look at me. I think my words have startled him now.

"Don't worry," I say. "I am no savage Dalish come to take your possessions and your life. I only wish to help." I bend down to look at the horse's feet. They're up to the knuckles in mud. "We need wood," I point to the cart's wheels. "If we can wedge it under the wheels, we should be able to pull the cart out of the mud." The cloaked figure makes no moves to do as I instructed, so I head to the tree-line myself. After I shove the few measly branches I could find under the wheels, I ask the cloaked figure to unteather the horse, and he does. Without the weight of the cart holding the horse down, after a few struggles, the beast is free. I move to the back of the cart, and the horse's master moves with me, and we push. I'm not sure how long we struggle with it, but eventually we manage to push it onto the road.

The horse's master helps me back onto the road, since now I'm covered in just as much mud as the horse. He extends a hand towards me, and in the dim light I can see it is tanned and larger than my own. I take his hand, and he raises his other to his cloak's hood. Mine had flown off long ago during our recent exertions, and his comes off quickly without pause for thought on the rain.

I feel my breath catch in my throat as recognition startles my mind. I look at him with wide eyes, not quite believing what I am seeing, and he smiles charmingly, bright and brilliant. "Thank you for the assistance, mi bonita. I suppose I should introduce myself, I am Zevran Arainai."

Suddenly time flashes before my eyes, and I'm startled by the flooding memories.

…...

_Note: Thank you for reading, reviewing, following, etc. I haven't decided when I'm going to update this fic, but likely every week or week and a half. The cover image was digitally painted by myself, and a full-sized image can be found on my deviantart: musicalrain0 _

_This fic will also be filled with elvish and Spanish (I've taken Spanish courses for years and almost minored in it, so I am using it as the Antivan language). Thank you again! :D_

_Translations:_

_Aneth ara: __A sociable or friendly greeting._

_Ma din emma harel: 'I am not one to cause fear'. Or: 'I am not to be feared.'_

_Emma lethallan: 'I am a friend.'_

_Mi bonita: 'My pretty.'_


	2. Chapter 2

_Note: A bunch of chapters, until I indicate otherwise, will be part of the main character's 'flashback'. These will take place way before the first chapter, and will bring us to that point. So imagine the timeline of this story like a "p" shape. We start at one point, loop around to cover the past, return to that point and extend into the future. If that doesn't make sense, feel free to PM me, and I'll try to clear it up. And here's the chapter! :D_

…...

The Halloween party was a bust; not nearly enough booze, not nearly enough fun, and crappy music. I walk along the edge of the road, because for some reason this section has no sidewalk, alone, and a little cold. It's dark, but I don't care, I'm in a bad mood. Everyone thought I was a pirate or a gypsy. I mean, c'mon, I'm obviously an elf. And when I tried to explain my costume, Dalish elf from Dragon Age, people gave me weird looks. I have ears on, high quality and cost way too much, and a custom outfit I made for myself. I took a Pocahontas sewing pattern and a pirate pattern and made my own Dalish outfit. I tried to be as authentic as possible too, no zippers or Velcro. I'm not even wearing a bra, but that's mostly due to the low-cut of the dress. My shoes are authentic moccasins, with beaded red and white eagles stitched over the toes. And I even bought henna ink. I drew brown branching vines all over the right side of my body the day before. They travel from my forehead over my cheekbone, down my neck, shoulder, arm, side, and right leg. They're ivy vines, and I was quite proud of them.

I nearly fall over a branch I didn't see, and huff when my chest almost falls out of my top. If you're larger than a B-cup you shouldn't really wear those sticky cup things; they barely lasted an hour. I loose those infuriating cup things during my almost-fall, and can see that they flew into the middle of the street. I grumble and curse under my breath as I walk over to retrieve them.

Suddenly I'm blinded by a bright light. A speeding truck had turned down the side street I was walking along. I freeze like a deer, and am surrounded by an impossibly white light as I feel pain surge through every limb in my body as I make contact with the truck.

When I awake, I struggle to think, to get my bearings. My head feels weird, muffled – okay maybe it's my brain, mind or whatever. I struggle to even think, to even remember what has happened. I feel a pulsing ache throughout my entire body. I know I'm hurt, but don't know how much. When I finally gather the courage to blink open my eyes and assess myself, I'm blinded yet again, but this time it's a soft blue glow. The glow dissipates and in its place a man's face comes into focus. He looks around thirty, maybe younger. He has shoulder-length chestnut colored hair, and friendly, round hazel eyes. His face is thin, but not gaunt, and he has no stubble or sign of facial hair. "Ah, you're awake," he says and smiles at me.

I try to talk, but make no sound. I lick my lips and find my mouth is impossibly dry. The man sees this, and turns and immediately places a cup to my lips as he snakes his arm beneath my shoulders. When I go to speak again, I can, but it is weak and raspy. "Thank you," I say, and then I ask. "What happened?"

"Two of our hunters found you by the river," he says. "You were severely injured. But, I've healed you as best I can. Healing is not one of my best areas, so you're going to be numb and weak for some time." His eyes wrinkle a little as he peers at me, "Do you know what happened to you lethallan?"

My mind stutters. _Hunters? River? Healing? Lethallan?_ I'm confused, but somehow these things are familiar, like they aren't weird and crazy to hear. I can't quite remember what happened to me, but I can't argue that the 'hunter's found me by a river, if they did. "I-I don't remember," I speak the truth.

The man hums as he thinks, "Do you remember your name?"

"Sadie," I reply quickly, and the man smiles when I do.

"Good, good. I am Keeper Dynarin of the Gern. Do you remember your clan, lethallan?"

_Clan?_ I furrow my brow as I think, and for some reason I can't make the connection. I remember things, but they don't make much sense and I struggle for clarity in my mind. "No," I reply simply.

His eyes wrinkle again, and he rubs the side of his face with his palm. "Tell me, what do you remember?"

I look away as I think, and stare at the wooden sides of the space we're in. "Walking and, and looking for... something. A white light and pain." _Why isn't this making any sense?_

He hums again, "A passing messenger told us clan Da'halla was attacked by shemlen mages fleeing from the shemlen mage holdings. Does this sound at all familiar?"

I think about it. Something about the clan name sounds familiar; it almost brings an image of an animal to mind. I feel overwhelmingly confused, and tears start to form in my eyes. I don't know what's wrong with me, why I can't remember the simplest things. Dynarin takes my reaction differently, "You remember some, yes? That white light was magic wasn't it?" He places a gentle hand on my head and strokes my hair, "Din numin. Din u." He withdraws his hand once my crying ceases, and his other arm is still holding me upright. "You may stay with the Gern, lethallan. You are lin and you are falon here."

I struggle to talk again, "I can hardly remember... anything."

He shifts closer to me, "You need time to heal, and this includes your mind. Suledin."

…...

_Note: __Ok, so I think I'll be updating this every week and a half to two weeks, so this won't interfere with my other fic too much, since I'm far closer to finishing that fic than this one. Especially since this story is only two chapters long, lol. I won't be neglecting this story, but the other one, One More Hawke, is my priority right now. Thank you for your patience! :D_

_Translations:_

_lethallan: 'friend'_

_Da'halla: 'small halla' – A halla is a horned animal of the family __cervidae, or deer family,__ in the Dragon Age universe._

_shemlen: 'quick children' – A name for humans._

_Din numin: 'Don't cry'_

_Din u: 'Not alone'. Or: 'You're not alone'_

_lin: 'blood' or 'kin'_

_falon: 'friend' when not referring to a clansmate or someone familiar._

_Suledin: 'Endure'_


	3. Chapter 3

Days pass and blur into weeks. Dynarin cares for me, but he says he doesn't see to me as much as he would like to. He does not have a First, so he handles all of the clan's affairs on his own. He sends a young girl, probably no more than thirteen or fourteen, to help me change and bathe. She keeps me company sometimes, and I like her enough. Her name is Nona.

I don't know how long I've been in the aravel before I can make some sense of my thoughts or of my memories. They are strange, conflicting things – like two dreams in war with one another. I know things I can't explain, and things I should know, I don't. Like elvish. It's difficult and feels weird on my tongue, but Dynarin and Nona help me. I'm improving, and Dynarin is happy with my progress on that at least.

I'm sitting now with Nona, our shoulders almost touching on the small bed as we lean against the aravel's wall, and she's talking about her meditations. She's preparing for her vallaslin. "How did you know to honor June, Sadie?"

"The Master of Crafts," I reply and look at the curving brown ivy on my right arm. The swirls are symbolic and clearly indicate June. I smile at the girl. Her dark eyes are focused on me, and her dark, dusky brow is pulled into a line of concentration. "I always have ideas," I say. "I don't remember what my duty was in Da'halla, but I'm always thinking about different things to make or do."

"Like what?" She asks curiously.

"Like a knife," I say and hold out the plain, simple knife I had used earlier for eating. "I have this image in my head of a knife with a metal sheath that breaks into two and exposes the blade with a flick of your wrist." I used my hands to demonstrate the sheath's action around the eating knife in my hands.

"Like a butterfly's wings!" She giggles and points at the shape my hands have made.

I nod, "A butterfly knife," and somehow I know this name just feels right.

"Maybe you were a craftsman," Dynarin says from the doorway of the aravel.

I set the knife down. "It's not just weapons I think about," I argue.

A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth as he walks towards us, "Craftsmen don't just make weapons. There's shields, armor, jewelry, figurines, and anything useful."

I consider his words. I have been thinking about jewelry recently too. "Maybe. But I don't remember how to make any of that, if what you say is true."

He ignores my second sentence, "How about we go to Master Wren and see what he thinks?"

I stare at him agape for a moment, "I've barely gotten used to walking from one end to the other of the aravel, and now I'm to walk across camp?"

He smiles warmly at me, "Wren's workplace is not far from here, and I promise to help you walk lethallan."

Wren likes me, he likes my ideas. We talk about the butterfly knife first, then curved pins for little tasks, metal closure clasps for clothes, metal housing for ink with tips cut at a sharp point to use in place of a quill, and more. I talk about things I can picture clearly in my mind, I draw most of them, and name them. Most of the names I don't quite know where they've come from, but they just sound right. Safety pins, snaps, pens, zippers, rulers, throwing stars, pulleys, barrettes, bobby pins, and catapults. The sun starts to dip, and my knees start to wobble badly from how long I've been standing. Dynarin wraps an arm around my waist to steady me, when I start to teeter as I draw an idea I had for a locket that has three spaces for things. "How about we head to the fire for a meal now, da'mi?" He looks at Wren, "We will see you at the fire lethallin."

His arm is still wrapped around me as we start to walk towards the gathering of people. His arm isn't enough to steady me, my bones feel like they're made of honey, and so I wrap my arm around his shoulders for the support. He stiffens when this brings the curve of my body directly to his, and I pretend to not notice when he relaxes. "Did you call me 'little blade'?"

He chuckles softly at his slipped endearment, "It sounds appropriate, doesn't it? You're sharp and quick with words and ideas. You're..." He abruptly clears his throat, and I smile at him.

"Now I'm curious, what else were you going to say about me da'assan?" I quirk a brow at him.

"_Little arrow_?" He repeats in common tongue with an amused and attempted affronted look.

I squeeze his shoulder, "If I'm a blade, it only makes sense that you're an arrow, da'assan."

"Da'mi," he says as we reach the fire and he helps lower me to the ground where I can stretch my legs out.

He settles himself next to me, and we hear one of the elders giggle like a youth. The elder woman, Fellani, says, "Emma enansal lath." _A blessing of love?_ I question in my mind as Dynarin replies to the old woman.

"Ma serannas, Fellani," Dynarin thanks her and wraps his arm back around my waist with a whole new meaning. My eyes go wide, wide enough that I'm sure they're about to drop out of my skull, and I turn my head to look up at Dynarin.

"Dynarin?" I question as I look up at his self satisfied smirk and shining hazel eyes.

"Yes, da'mi?" He replies as he gazes down at me with _something_ shimmering in his eyes.

I feel a burn in my cheeks, "Was that... Are you... Is this..." I put a hand to my mouth, "I think I'll stop talking now."

He chuckles and I can feel it reverberate through my body. He pulls my hand away from my mouth with his free hand, and places a gentle kiss in my palm. I feel my face burn as I hear Fellani and others laugh and giggle. There's a few calls for more, shouts, and 'awws'. _How long have I known Dynarin? Two months, three? _I cover my face with my other hand in embarrassment. He releases the hand he was holding, and pulls my other hand from my face. "Don't hide da'mi," he says as he bends his head to place a gentle kiss on the corner of my mouth. My face really burns as I hear more calls, shouts, and claps now.

A little girl, no older than ten and with bright red hair, brings us a basket of food and a jug of floral tea to share. She smiles and giggles at us and says, "she's pretty Keeper." She scurries away just as quickly as she came. I don't know what to think about what just happened. But it's not like I can dissuade the Keeper from making such displays of affection. Not that I'd stop him anyways. _Maybe there's something there? _We've known each other for a while know, andit's not just one-sided. I think him handsome, and kind, and...

To distract myself from thinking too hard on everything that just transpired, since I'll have plenty of time to myself in the aravel, I look around at the other elvhen as I stuff a piece of flat bread into my mouth. I know some of them from when Nona and I would sit on the stairs of my borrowed aravel. Gern is a small clan, no more than a dozen and a half including the children. Most sit in small groups around the fire; families, friends, and lovers. I nearly blush again at that last thought. The places where Dynarin's lips touched still tingle. And I still can't decide what to think about it, _him, what's happened._

"How many families are here?" I hear myself asking suddenly. It's quite a topic change from what just happened.

"Peth, Janeri, Nuadah, Rosso, and Eneai." He pauses, "And there are a few whose families come from elsewhere."

"Like me?" I turn a little and ask.

He nods, "Orphans too. They are given names by the people."

"Which are you?"

He tilts his head slightly as he answers, "Elsewhere. I am Ba. Dynarin Ba." He straightens his head and asks, "And you?"

I frown, "I don't know. I... I think it was a name of a flower."

He shifts his hand to rub the small of my back, "Your memories will return with time. I am sure."

Dynarin has to practically carry me back to the aravel, because my legs decided that they were resting and wouldn't cooperate. I bury my face into his shoulder to hide as calls, whistles, and claps start up again. The people are clearly happy to see their Keeper show interest in another. He helps me to lay down on the bed, and stands close to the edge as I settle. "When will my bones quit melting?" I ask.

"Soon," he says with a promise in his voice, and I cannot help but have hope that it's true.

…...

_Note: I have a feeling that this chapter was a little boring. But it is longer, so yay? If it was terribly boring, I apologize. I'm trying to get the time moving, but also not trying to neglect the little things. Thank you everyone for all the reads, follows, favs! :D You're awesome!_

_Translations:_

_aravel: 'long journey'. – A Dalish land-ship._

_vallaslin: 'blood writing'. – A type of tattooing that displays the worship of Dalish gods._

_Da'halla: 'small halla' – A halla is a horned animal in the Dragon Age universe._

_lethallan/lethallin: 'friend'. '-an' when referring to females. '-in' when referring to males._

_da'mi: 'little blade'_

_da'assan: 'little arrow'_

_Emma enansal lath: 'I am blessing love'. Or: 'I am blessing the love'._

_Ma serannas: 'My thanks'. Or: 'Thank you'._

_elvhen: 'our people'' – Elvish name for their race._


	4. Chapter 4

I've been spending my time during the day these past few weeks talking with Master Wren. He's told me that even though I can't remember the trade, he'd like me to work alongside his apprentices until my abilities return to me. It's an honor, I'm sure. I've been walking more around camp too. Nona's usually with me, and she likes to visit the halla and take me to the river nearby. A small waterfall, probably no more than three or four times my height marks one end of the river. I really, really want to go into the water. I want to feel the spray on my face and float along the currents more than I'd probably admit aloud. Dynarin warns me against it, and I know he's right. I'm just getting used to walking again, swimming probably isn't a good idea. But despite this, I still take any opportunity to strip my shoes off, hike up my skirts, and walk along the water's edge with Nona beside me.

Sometimes we talk like old friends, sometimes like an older and younger sister, and sometimes like a teacher to their student. Today we're talking like friends, "So I saw you talking to that hunter again last night. Rem wasn't it, Nona?" I can see a rosy blush peek through the dark color of her skin at my words.

She smiles timidly, "Yesss... Annnd lethallan?"

"He likes you." Her blush deepens and I bark a laugh. "It would be a good match."

"You think so?" She asks with a slightly wider smile, "Mamae says he's too old for me."

I shake my head, "Age doesn't matter if you really like each other."

"Like you and the Keeper?" She asks, and it's my turn to blush and hers to giggle. "Don't worry, I can keep all your secrets."

I turn my head towards her and raise a brow in question, "You do? What secrets?"

She skips a little and splashes water with the hem of her dress, she never bothers holding it up when we walk like this. "Like how you like way too much mint in your tea. How you will eat everything on your plate even if you don't like it. How you're so frustrated with your hair."

I interrupt her, "Every woman is frustrated with their hair," but she continues.

"How you don't like your feet bare, even in an aravel. How you speak a little strangely sometimes. And now, how you really, really like the Keeper."

"Is it that obvious?" I question. Dynarin has been more _friendly_ as of late, not that I'm complaining. He even had a slight slip of the tongue during last night's meal around the fire. He called me emm'asha. _My girl_. If I look at his actions in an abstract way, it's obvious he's smitten. I wonder if it's as obvious on my end.

The girl shakes her head, "He's claimed his intent, but I don't think you've ever done so."

What Nona said shocked me, and it took me probably longer than normal to ask, "When was that?"

My friend's eyes go wide, but she quickly schools her features into a look that says _'really?' _"When he called you emm'asha and took your hand in front of the others. You didn't deny him, so the point was made that he is, ah, what do the shemlen call it? Courting? Yes. Courting you."

"What do I, err, do?" Nona, always full of energy, spins around and looks at me like I've lost my head. "I've never been with a man like this before!" I exclaim a little embarrassedly. At least I don't ever remember a man claiming his intent to 'court' me. "And I've only just remembered elvish! How am I supposed to know how to claim my intent?" My mouth falls open into a little 'o', "I mean, that is, if I am maybe alright with his courting." _Oh, Creators. Please guide me. I think I may have lost my mind, and I have no idea what I am doing._

Nona's face brightens and she clasps her hands, "You can make a garland of tiberius ivy and any red blossom. Or you can fend off another woman with intent. Or you can give him a prized possession, like something made of iron bark or gold. Usually men do that too. Has he given you iron bark or gold?"

I hesitantly lift my hair to reveal a small twist held in place by an iron bark hair stick carved to look like an elongated slender hand with small roses on the knuckles. Nona giggles and coos, "That's soooo pretty. It must have taken a lot of effort."

I put my hair back and wring my hands together nervously, "I don't own any iron bark or gold." I frown, "I don't think there's any other women to fend off either. So that just leaves the garland."

Nona bobs her head in agreement, "Tiberius ivy isn't easy to find, but I'll help!"

Nona helps me make the garland, and tells me I'm supposed to put it around his neck and that it doesn't matter if it's in public or private. I'm way too nervous to even consider it in public, so I decide to give it to him in the aravel after sunset. I don't know what I'm doing, or why, but again it just feels right. Dynarin feels like the only certainty in my life right now, and I need that.

Dynarin walks me back to the aravel and tells me about plans for Arlathvhen at the end of next spring. A runner had just come with news of it's location earlier in the day – the grounds in Ferelden given to the Dalish on behest of Theron Mahariel, the Hero.

I walk up the three stairs and into the aravel without any assistance, I think my breaks and fractures have finally healed completely. Dynarin stands in the middle of the space while I have my back to him and twist my fingers together nervously. "Can you sit on the bed?" I ask him, and turn around when he does. He's looking at me with a curious expression on his face, and his eyes crinkled in something like amusement with his own charm. I go to the satchel Nona loaned me, and am careful to keep my back to him as I fish out the garland. I made sure to ask Nona about all the symbolism, and she assured me that the little wild red roses dotting the ivy were only symbolic of romantic thoughts. She even said that she heard the shems use them for romance too, but that the elvhen gave them to their intended first. But when I turn around, and Dynarin sees the garland in my hands, I start to question just _how _romantic the thoughts symbolized by roses are. His expression has changed into one that I've never quite seen on him before. His eyes are dark, the warm hazel colors barely visible, his nostrils are a little flared, and his eyes are narrowed and piercing me with a look that makes shivers run down my spine and my knees tremble in a way that has nothing to do with my injuries. I feel something coil in my gut when I swallow roughly and quietly walk towards him. I lift my arms and place the garland around his neck and say, "Emm'assan. Emma vhenan."

He doesn't say anything, but wraps an arm around me and uses his other hand to brush back my hair and reveal the hair pin. His fingers run over the tip of my ear, and I shiver and gasp at the sensation as it overcharges my already frayed nerves. I hear something, like a rumble coming from him, and then he attacks my lips. I gasp again at the sudden demanding, something I've never thought the sweet man before me wanting to do. He takes the opportunity to invade my mouth, and my head is spinning from all the overwhelming things I'm feeling. My eyes close as I shyly reach out to touch my tongue to his. When I open my eyes and pull back for much needed air, I see in his large eyes that tears have gathered at the edges.

"How long have you... wanted this?" I ask him in the softest whisper I've ever uttered. I'm afraid of what he'll say. The Keeper can have any woman he wants, and he wants _me_. He barely knows me, and I barely know myself. It baffles my mind that he would be so forward so soon, so demanding in his actions.

He moves his hand to rub my cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, "Since Rem and Yelena brought you to my aravel."

"Your aravel?" I repeat and look around, "Where have you been sleeping?"

"A tent," he moves his hand to my hair. "There is a story of a mortal woman of long ago blessed by Mythal, who had been able to recognize her mate for who he was at first glance. With one look she knew who she would be bound to." He smiled, the crows feet at his eyes showing, "My mother had believed her family to be ancestors of the elder Vhenan'vir, emma lath."

"Emma lath?" I repeat his words in question. _My love? Is he saying he believes in true love at first sight? Isn't that just stories?_

He looks at me with such sweetness and nods his head, "Ma emma lath."

I furrow my brow, and hesitate before I tentatively touch my lips to his. I dare not agree with him and reply, _"Ma'arlath,"_ without knowing what I believe.

…...

_Note: I took a children's lit class a few semesters ago, and I entirely blame this chapter on those old fairy tales! lol. I figured there's a 'love at first sight' story in nearly every culture, and thought that Dynarin was a good character to fit the 'hopeless romantic' bill. The story he tells about the woman, Vhenan'vir, is entirely made up by myself. Sadie also seems a little all over the place, but someone that I'd imagine to be deeply touched by someone showing a great deal of romantic interest in them. *shurgs* Anyway, I'd like to thank you all again! And without further adieu, here's the translations:_

_Translations:_

_halla: __A halla is a horned animal in the Dragon Age universe._

_Lethallan: __'friend'. '-an' when referring to females._

_Mamae: 'Mother'_

_aravel: __'long journey'. – A Dalish land-ship._

_Emm'asha: 'My girl'_

_shemlen/shems: __'quick children' – A name for humans. Shem for short._

_Arlathvhen: A meeting between all the Dalish clans that takes place every ten years._

_Elvhen: '__our people'' – Elvish name for their race._

_Emm'assan: 'My arrow'_

_Emma vhenan: 'My heart'_

_Mythal: the Great Protector. One of the Dalish Creators, and the patron goddess of motherhood and justice._

_Vhenan'vir: 'Heart's way'. Or: 'Heart's path'._

_emma lath: 'My love'_

_Ma emma lath: 'You are my love'_

_Ma'arlath: 'I love you'_

_P.S. Don't worry! There will be eventual Zevran romance in this story!_


	5. Chapter 5

I start to work with Master Wren and his apprentices regularly by the time the first leaves fall off the branches and the clan has moved to an area near Tantervale. The work is difficult and tiring, but rewarding in the things I help make and the ideas I share. I'm given basic tasks first, polishing, shaping, cleaning. By the time the first light dusting of snow falls, I've made my first necklace. It's a simple copper pendant suspended on a woven leather band. The pendant is shaped like a pointed north star, with four large delicate points and small points in between, the center is also cut out in a circle. The shape is familiar, and I picture that I've made something like this before in silver as I work the metal. My hands almost move of their own accord as I do so.

I give the pendant to Nona, at Dynarin's suggestion, to congratulate her on her vallaslin. She's chosen Dirthamen the Keeper of Secrets, at no surprise to me. She has become quite the seamstress since I've known her, and weaves the stories and secrets of our people into her fabrics. She also helps care for the orphans whenever she can. She's very sweet.

The quality of my work isn't the only thing that has changed in these past five or so months. My relationship with Dynarin has also changed dramatically. Not long after I had presented him the garland of tiberius ivy and roses did we consummate our relationship. I had invited him to stay regularly in his aravel shortly thereafter, but I have not confessed to loving him yet. He does not fail to remind me of his strong feelings, and I reciprocate them with actions rather than words. I am cautious in saying something so important when I jumped into this on Dynarin's faith in me, in _us_, alone. Perhaps my caution in speaking those words is not needed, perhaps two people are brought together by the Creators for a reason, perhaps I am just not ready. But I have time to think on that later.

Right now I'm reading a book, something in common that one of the hunters 'found', in the warmth of the aravel I've come to share with Dynarin, when he comes in looking breathless but excited. He smiles at me as he sits next to me, and takes a few breaths before he says, "Yelena and Kemari Rosso have a beautiful da'len of their own now."

"Boy or girl?" I ask as I share his smile. I had heard that the youngest Rosso couple had been trying for a child for quite some time now. Yelena was actually two or three months with child when she and Rem found me battered and clinging to life so many months ago.

"Asha," he replies quickly, and then startles me when he kisses me and grabs my hips. He knocks the book from my hands in his eagerness.

"What's gotten into you?" I ask with laughter in my eyes and voice once we break apart.

He pulls back slightly as he strokes the side of my face, "You should see how happy they are, emma lath." Then he moves his hand to stroke the skin under my tunic between my hips to make his desires perfectly clear.

I freeze and blush, but manage to get out weakly, "We're not even bonded yet." _Not to mention I'm even too afraid to tell you ma'arlath._

He places a kiss on my cheek, still caressing the softness of my skin under my tunic, "That could change ma emma lath."

I'm uncertain, I'm afraid, I'm panicking a bit, but I look into his eyes, and they're swimming with such desire and passion that it takes my breath away. I've been able to remember more since I've healed. I know more about myself, my family, my friends. I can even remember drawing and making things now too. But I can't remember everything. The haze of my past causes the uncertainty I feel to pass in my eyes, despite me trying to keep my expression neutral. I don't want anything to come between us. Dynarin is important to me. He sees this and kisses me softly, "We can wait."

I shake my head and try to explain in the easiest way I can, "...I'm broken Dynarin."

He places his palm on my cheek reassuringly, "You are not. Do not allow your past, or lack of one, interfere with who you are now and who you can become. Suledin."

I smile lovingly at him. He always reminds me to endure – endure my pains, my troubles, and anything that comes my way. _I know_. I know now. _I really do love him. _I don't hesitate as I take a step back, reach into my satchel and pull out a small, delicate carving knife. I place it into his broad palm. He looks at me questioningly, and I nod.

"Ma'arlath," I finally tell him.

He wordlessly takes my right palm and cuts a line, just deep enough to scar, from the base of my pointer finger to the opposite corner of my palm's base. It stings, and my jaw clenches at the pain, but I don't make any noises – it's a show of strength and commitment. I take his right palm and make a similar diagonal cut, and he too does not make a sound. We press our palms together and intertwine our fingers as we kiss with the intensity of our feelings.

We're bonded.

In the morning we emerge from the aravel with matching bandages on our hands. I'm embarrassed when the first words of congratulations, claps and pats start from my clansmates. Dynarin and I part ways for the day with a kiss, mostly for the benefit of the people I'm sure, and I go to Master Wren's station with the intention of finishing my most recent project. Wren has made all the important things that the Rossos need for their da'len, being the happy uncle of the new father himself, and so I decided to contribute by making a charm of Mythal to hang from the boards of the family's aravel to wish protection on their da'len. Winter-born da'len are known to be the most difficult to rear, and her parents will undoubtedly face many difficulties in the coming months. Should the Creators watch over their daughter and guide her survival through her life's trials, she will surely be a strong elvhen blessed with gifts from Mythal herself.

I finish the charm an hour or so before the sun sets, as it sets a little early in this season, and go to present it myself. It is elaborate and long. It's decorated with twisted metal, stones, shells, and small wooden carvings in the old language. It is a mass of loose objects, and sways like hanging moss.

Kemari comes to answer my knock as he pushes aside the blanket hanging in the doorway of the aravel. He nods and greets, "Aneth ara Sadie."

"Sadie Ba," I correct and hold up my bandaged right hand. Kemari is a serious man, very stoic and one of our very few warriors – known for his merciless nature towards shemlen and seth'lin – and so I'm a little surprised when I catch a fleeting smile cross his face. I continue and don't comment on it, "Enansal na da'len." I hold up the charm. Kemari gestures for me to enter the aravel.

Yelena is laying on the bed when I enter with the da'len asleep on her bared chest. It looks like the babe fell asleep during her feeding. I nod at Yelena and silently hang up the charm above the foot of the bed. Just as I finish, the infant stirs and releases herself from her mother with a yawn. Yelena sighs and pulls down her cropped tunic. "Mythal?" she questions with a look at my gift once her child is settled. "Ma serannas. Sadie," she looks pointedly at my right hand, "Ba," and smiles weakly. She looks worn out, but happy.

I come forward and carefully touch the forehead of the da'len with my fingertips. "Does she have a name?" I ask.

"As of this morning, yes," Yelena answers quietly. "Denni." She peers at me in a sort of strange way, a way that makes me wonder what she's thinking, and then she asks, "would you like to hold her?" I nod once, and she helps me settle the child in my arms. Denni hardly stirs during the entire exchange, she seems to be a heavy sleeper, and I settle her against my chest and shoulder. She's so very tiny, so fragile, and I feel something warm spread through my chest as I look at her sleeping form.

I hear Kemari move about behind me, but don't pay him much attention until I hear Dynarin's voice asking about Denni and Yelena. I turn around to face the doorway as Dynarin enters the space, and see as his eyes go wide with an odd mixture of shock and longing crossing his features. He had made clear his desire for children just last night. And his desire for _me_ to carry his children despite the poor health of my memories, my uncertainty, and his unwavering faith in me is what ultimately led to us bonding. I'm startled to recall that I never voiced a confirmation or denial of his wishes after we bonded.

He comes forward and wraps an arm around my shoulders and kisses me on the cheek. As he is running a blueish-green glowing hand over the length of the infant, I whisper into his ear, just for him to hear, "I think I'd like us to have our own one day." If it was possible his eyes go wider, and so I nod once in confirmation of his silent question. _One day._

…_..._

_Note: I should've gotten this out yesterday, but there was one part bothering me that I couldn't seem to get right. It still bothers me a bit (the bonding scene). :/ Regardless, I should let you know that this story won't stay fluffy forever (it has been really fluffy lately, huh?). There will be angst, drama, and all that jazz eventually. ;) Also, I won't be posting some of the elven words that should be familiar now in the translations section. Even if you didn't pay much attention to the elvish in the game, some of the words have been used quite excessively in this story. :D_

_Translations:_

_da'len: 'little child'_

_Asha: 'Girl'_

_emma lath: 'my love'_

_ma'arlath: 'I love you'_

_ma emma lath: 'you are my love'_

_Suledin: 'Endure'_

_Aneth ara: '__My safe place__'. - A friendly greeting amongst the Dalish. _

_seth'lin: 'thin blood'. - An insult directed at non-human outsiders._

_Enansal na da'len: 'A gift for your little child'_

_Ma serannas: 'My thanks'. Or: 'Thank you'._


	6. Chapter 6

_Note: A super quick update with PLOT! Translations and additional notes at the end. :)_

It's mid-winter according to the shemlen calendars, as I'm told, and the snow is as thick as it's ever been. I'm also told it snows worse further south and past the Waking Sea, and that we should be thankful that snow comes heavy later in the season here too.

It's been roughly two months since Dynarin and I bonded, and despite the hardships winter can bring, we both find happiness and solace in each other's arms. I wake on one particularly cold morning curled protectively in Dynarin's arms and covered in the thick layers of our furs. It's pretty normal, except for the queasiness in my stomach which woke me. This is the fourth morning it has happened, and I close my eyes and try to will it away; I hate being sick and this season is ripe for it. I carefully extricate myself from Dynarin and our bed, and heave my stomach's scare contents out the window. We have so little food this time of year, and to waste it on illness does no good. I walk over to our one small table, and drink the cold elfroot and mint tea I left for myself just for this. It's bitter and really cold, but it calms my stomach's trembling.

Dynarin wakes when I'm finishing the tea. "You're still ill?" He asks worriedly as the sleep is blinked away from his eyes. He's never claimed to be the best at healing, but he had thought elfroot tea would help return my health. I nod, and he gets up to help me back to the bed. "I didn't feel anything wrong with your stomach when you first started to become ill, but I'll check again if you would like emma lath." I nod again, since my tongue is still too numb from the elfroot to speak properly. I lay back and he lays a hand over my stomach. I feel warmth flood the area as his hand glows a soft aquamarine. "Hmm," he hums and says, "Maybe..." I feel his hand drift lower, slowly checking the rest of my abdomen for any sign of the cause of my illness. His hand stops below my navel, and he turns his head to look at me with wide, round hazel eyes and his mouth partially agape.

"What?" I slur, my tongue quickly getting back its feeling from the numbing tea.

His stunned look turns into a wide smile complete with the crows feet at the corners of his eyes, "Ma sa'lath, you are with child."

I blink a few times until I can fully comprehend what he's told me, "How?" He smirks and raises a brow. I shake my head, "No, I mean when?"

He pauses as he thinks with the tendrils of his magic still feeling the area, "It's very early. Hardly noticeable." He swallows, "At this early though, it is probably too early to be certain..." I won't let him believe otherwise. I've had enough loss for one lifetime, I will not loose anything else.

I was right as it turns out. As we prepare for travel for Arlathvhen, the bump of my stomach is quite visible. I'm about five months heavy with child. I suspect the da'len to be born just as the heat of summer leaves us, and the forests are ripe with berries and fruits. Dynarin suspects our da'len to be an asha, because he says that in his family, the first born has been a girl since the time of Arlathan.

We're sitting in our aravel, now cramped with another family, as we cross the Waking Sea, and we're discussing names. He won't even let me consider names for a boy, as he's certain the da'len is a girl.

"Samahl?"

I shake my head, "That means laughter."

"I know," he winks. "Don't you want her to have a happy name?"

I shake my head again, "Not laughter." I rub my stomach a few times as I think, "I like Juno." The name sounds familiar, like I've seen it for heard it before, but I can't place where.

"For June?" He asks me.

I nod this time, "June is both our guides." I trace the faint white lines on the sides of his face that branch in the symbolic twists of the Master of Crafts. Dynarin does like to make ice sculptures with his magic. It's a shame they melt. "June is too masculine. Juno is softer."

He quirks a brow as he thinks about it. "Juno Ba?" He too reaches a hand out to rub where our da'len lay. "Hmm. I like it." He nods in agreement, "Ma lath Juno."

I smile and he does too, "Juno Ba it is."

Ten years after the Blight, and Ostagar still looks to be recovering from the black plague that had spread across this land. The trees are dead, broken skeletons of what they once were; their beauty stripped from them. The grasses are twisted gnarled things, and as I look at the grey dust the earth itself has become, I feel tears sting my eyes. The land looked better, though not by much, at the outskirts of Gwaren where our aravels landed. This is a horrible scar on the land and truly indicates where the Blight first brought its true threat.

As we near the old Tevinter ruins we are to use for the events of Arlathvhen, I can't help but feel as though I've been here before. That I know this place. I can picture shemlen in armor standing in groups and chatting amongst themselves, dogs in kennels, and tents pitched in the rich colors of the shemlen nobility. I don't say anything though as I continue walking with the Gern to an empty space just off in the distance. I don't say anything when I'm suddenly struck with images of the battle at Ostagar. I don't even say anything when I start to see darkspawn and blood splatters out of the corners of my eyes. I was here. I'm sure of it. Somehow I had seen that battle.

As we settle our aravels and pitch our tents in a space just large enough for our small clan, I can't shake the feeling that someone is watching me. Someone's eyes are on me. I go with Nona and a few others to gather firewood, and I try to find those eyes. I separate myself from the group in my effort. I'm not sure if it's the best thing to do, but I'm not sure if the owner of those eyes will show themselves if I don't do so.

An elderly woman with silvery hair and a heavy brown dress of furs and soft leathers emerges from the wood. She smiles at me, but something is off about her. She's elvhen, Dalish, and a Keeper by the looks of her staff. It's her eyes. I can see them the closer she gets. They glow a strange light orange color.

"You hold a spirit within," I say, and am not sure how I can know such things. I put a hand over my mouth in horror. I know she is an abomination too.

She nods and stops a few paces in front of me, "The spirit Perception, of keen insight." A slow smile spreads across her face, "I am also a... friend of Asha'belannar and of many." Her smile fades and she fixes me with her impossibly strange gaze. It's not just her color that seems wrong; it's the way she uses her eyes. "I know you da'len. I can see you for what you are, just as you can see me for what I am."

I remove my hand from my mouth. I am transfixed, "...and what am I?"

She doesn't answer and only says, "There will be a day... Din mahvir. Mana... Where you sing suledin vhenan. Sulahn suledin vhenan. Sulahn suledin vhenan." She finishes her chant with a shake of her head as if to clear her thoughts, "You will need to search for the Grand Oak then da'len. Only the Oak can tell you how to stop singing. Only the Oak can tell you how to find the answer to your question... Many seasons will pass until then... I am merely a messenger." She takes a step back, "Dareth shiral da'len." She melts into the shadows right before my eyes. And I am stuck staring into the space for several moments afterwards. I don't say anything about this encounter either when I return to the Gern. I think I must be going mad.

Three days after our arrival in Ostagar, the events of Arlathvhen begin as the Keepers of all the clans gather. They will be in solitude discussing matters not for the people's ears for two whole days. I've heard the Hero will be given the privilege to attend for part of the meeting. Celebrations, demonstrations, and stories will continue for days afterwards. The elvhen will celebrate our heritage and honor our stories and history as we teach the young what it means to be elvhenen.

I can't help when my mind travels to that strange encounter in the wood as Nona helps me with my hair the morning after Dynarin leaves for the meeting of the Keepers. _Sulahn suledin vhenan, sulahn suledin vhenan. _Her words echo in my mind. _Are they a warning?_ I don't know, and I'm afraid. I rest my hand over where my da'len grows. I don't want anything to befall Juno, and I don't know how the woman's words of 'sing endure for the heart' will effect her, or if they even can. My thoughts feel just as jumbled as they did when my bones were in pieces months ago. No one speaks of it now, but I know I was close to Fen'Harel's grasp. The Dread Wolf almost took me, and I'm frightfully reminded how just about a year has passed since then.

"You have gone still." I hear Nona, "Is the baby moving?"

I shake my head, and look over my shoulder at the girl as she strings beads of carved wood and pieces of shell into one of my long braids. I smile at her, "You can call her Juno. We've decided." Nona scrunches up her nose and I almost laugh, "Do you not like the name? Or do you still not believe Dynarin?"

She brushes back a few braids and pins them with a decorative hair comb I've made myself. It's inlaid with pieces of broken colored glass to look like a dragonfly from a distance. "He cannot know it's a girl," she says finally. I shake my head. There's no way to convince her until the da'len is born.

Since Dynarin does not have a Second, as his wife I am temporary leader of the Gern for the next two days. Fellani promises to help me as the Gern's oldest elder, but most of the responsibility falls onto me. There's a clan camped near us, the Ralaferin, and I decide to introduce myself. Their clan is large at at least twenty-five to thirty adult elvhen. Their clan prefers to migrate around the Anderfels. They travel much further and more often than ours due to the size of their clan. We only have roughly a dozen adults, including the elders. I bring Nona with me, and joke with her that she's my 'Second' while I'm 'Keeper'. I ask the hunter Rem to come with us too, mostly for Nona and partially to represent the men of our clan.

The elaborate way my hair is done and the clothes I am wearing signify my temporary leadership position. I am wearing soft leathers and furs in the cut of the leathers that many of our huntresses wear. It exposes me from the bottoms of my breasts to my hips. Two little da'len come up to rub my swollen stomach, and I smile at them in greeting.

A taller brunette man in his late teens, who I assume to be Keeper Gisharel's Second comes before us with his own small troupe. An elder man with dark eyes is to his right, and a tall sun-bleached blonde woman is to his left.

He bows his head in respect, "Aneth ara lethallan. I am Leon, Second to Keeper Gisharel of the Ralaferin. And who may you be?"

I bow my head and repeat the greeting, "I am Sadie Ba, wife to Keeper Dynarin of the Gern. I have come here on behalf of our people, due to our lack of Second."

He interrupts me to say, "Ah. I had heard about that, yes. I do believe Gisharel will be offering your clan my niece as Second. Our family has always been stronger in magic, and little Nehnia is learning quickly."

With the smirk on his face and the laughter in his voice, I feel compelled to ask, "How old is Nehnia?"

"Eight summers."

I was expecting him to have been joking when he called her 'little'. _She's just a child. A child being taken away from her family, and he's _laughing _about it?_

I decide to avoid those thoughts at the moment, "I actually didn't come here to inquire about Nehnia, but rather to invite those of your clan who would like to, to attend the evening's meal around the Gern's fire tonight."

The elder smiles and nods his head, "It would be good to foster friendship between our people, if Nehnia is to live with your clan. Her parents would appreciate the opportunity to meet your people."

I nod my head in agreement, and the elder continues, "For now, we would like to offer our hospitalities." He waves his hand as he turns on his heel, "Come."

…...

_Note: In the last chapter I failed to mention that the idea for the bonding ceremony was actually done in a fanfic I read a long time ago and I can't remember the title (the blood bonding part). I thought that ceremony was very fitting for the Dalish. If anyone knows the title of the fic (it was a Mahariel/Alistair story), please let me know and I will give credit where it is due! :D The part I really had issue writing last chapter was the build-up to the bonding ceremony. :P Anyway, I hope you liked the actual plot in this chapter! This is the last chapter that I have a rough version of, so from here on out I will be completely writing the chapters from scratch! All of you readers are awesome, and I will now diligently try to reply to every one of the reviews! Here's the translations (with additional notes)..._

_Translations:_

_emma lath: 'my love'_

_Ma sa'lath: 'My one love'_

___Arlathvhen: A meeting between all the Dalish clans that takes place every ten years._

_da'len: 'little child'_

_asha: 'girl'_

_Arlathan: 'I love the place'. Or: 'place of meeting'. - The __major city of the elven homeland, Elvhenan._

_Samahl: 'Laughter'_

_June: The elven god of crafts._

_elvhen: 'our people' – Elvish name for their race._

_Asha'belannar: '__Woman of Many Years'. - The Dalish name for Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds._

_Din mahvir: 'Not tomorrow'_

_Mana: 'L__ong amount of time'_

_suledin: 'Endure'. - Here used in reference to the Dalish song Suledin, a song about enduring and emerging from one's sorrow._

_suledin vhenan: 'Endure for the heart'._

_Sulahn suledin vhenan: 'Sing endure for the heart'. Or: 'Sing the song Suledin for the heart'._

_Dareth shiral: 'Safe journey'. - Used as a farewell._

_elvhenen: 'Place of our people'. Or: 'Our hearts'. - The name of the original elven homeland before humans arrived in Thedas._

_Fen'Harel: T__he Dread Wolf, Lord of Tricksters, Roamer of the Beyond (what the Dalish call the Fade) and the bringer of nightmares._

_Ralaferin: The clan with the Keeper Gisharel mentioned in the Codex entry for the Dalsih Warden origin in DAO._

_Aneth ara: ____'My safe place'. - A friendly greeting amongst the Dalish. _

_Nehn: 'Joy'_


	7. Chapter 7

_Note: Surprise character revealed in this chapter!_

As we board the aravels and we set off to return to the forests our clan takes as our home, I contemplate all that we've gained from Arlathvhen. Nehnia, first and foremost, is probably the most valuable addition. The girl is cheerful and has a bright smile. She has shortly cropped chestnut hair with a few longer tendrils that she keeps tucked behind her ears. She's sitting next to me in the aravel, and I smile at her and she smiles back with glittering peridot-colored eyes. She already knows basic ice, fire, and nature spells. Gisharel believes her greatest strength may be elemental magic, but her specialized skills won't manifest until she's older. We were also given four more halla, a stock of ironbark, and various goods we traded for.

Dynarin has yet to enter our shared aravel for our journey. He has to make last-minute adjustments due to the extra halla and the space they take up. I lean my head out the door just in time to hear a higher-voiced woman exclaim, "Please! I have been to _every_ clan! You must help me!"

That catches my attention, and I stand to see what the commotion is. I motion to Nehnia to stay seated, and I step onto the ground just as Dynarin sighs and rubs at his forehead, "Abelas. I am sorry. But the Gern cannot take you in. You have been cast out by all that remains of the Sabrae, as well as by the Hero. We cannot risk offering you sanctuary and angering the Sabrae. Keeper Marethari was well respected. I cannot do this."

The woman is small, raven-haired, pale, and has a steel staff of two intertwining serpents strapped to her back. _She's a mage? _I step closer, and am struck by that same sense of familiarity I had when we first entered Ostagar. She breaks out in tears and covers her face with both her hands. I am certain that I _must _know her. "Dynarin," I step close to my mate and lay a hand on his shoulder, "I think I know her. But I am not sure how."

He blinks down at me, "Are you sure?"

I nod and address the crying woman. "I am Sadie, lethallan. Who are you?"

She looks over towards me, her hands falling from her face. "_Lethallan_," she whispers. "I had almost forgotten what it is like to be called that." She sniffles, "I am Merrill."

_Merrill? _My mouth falls open in a little 'o' shape, as I start to see fleeting images of the woman before my mind's eye, just like those I had of the battle at Ostagar. "Have," my voice falters and I swallow, "Have we met before?"

She tilts her head and looks over my form briefly, "I don't think so. Do we? Know each other, I mean."

I shrug helplessly, "I lost my memory about a year ago," I explain. "You look familiar, and I can picture you doing things. Walking, talking, sitting, casting spells..." Dynarin wraps an arm around my waist in support, both physically and emotionally. "Your name even sounds quite familiar."

The woman twirls her fingers together in front of herself nervously, "It has been many years since I've lived as an elvhen. Nearly a decade. If we did meet, it must have been before I left the Sabrae. If that's the case, I may... have forgotten you myself." She drops her head to look at the ground as she swirls her foot around in the dirt, "I am sorry if I have. You... seem like a nice person."

"You can stay with the Gern, Merrill," Dynarin says and surprises us both. I had heard Dynarin's reasons for her _not _staying with us just moments ago. They were very compelling. Seeing the look on both of our faces, Dynarin continues and speaks to Merrill. "My mate remembers very little of her life before her injury, and you have helped her remember more. For that, you may stay with our people."

"I-I..." Merrill stutters and starts crying anew, but now in joyous relief. "Ma serannas Keeper! You will not regret this! I promise! I will do whatever you say, and I won't be a danger to anyone. I know now that blood magic is too dangerous to use, and I have not used it since the Eluvian. Hawke made me promise."

The name Hawke sounds familiar too, but no solid picture comes to mind. Dynarin, obviously a bit confused by her babbling and concerned about the mention of blood magic says, "With the Gern, Merrill, I do not want you to use magic unless it proves absolutely necessary. We will find you a task you can do without."

Merrill nods enthusiastically and breathes, "Anything."

Once our clan settles in the forest, Dynarin assigns Merrill the task of medicinal herb collecting and making potions and salves. She readily agrees, and thanks us both profusely for the dozenth time that very day. Within the days and months that follow, our lives return to as normal of a state as they can be. Dynarin has altered his schedule to include a handful of hours teaching Nehnia every afternoon. Despite her initial home-sickness, the girl is eager to learn and quite bright. Nona takes to her easily, as does Merrill. Merrill seems to have found a kind of kinship with the young mage, although Dynarin tries to discourage their growing friendship subtly. He is not very comfortable around the self-admitted blood mage. Merrill and I chat in between my shifts with Master Wren, as she was at first curious about what I knew of her. I know very little, just bits and pieces that make very little sense together, but it is progress all the same. She seems familiar, and I'm comfortable around her despite her past.

The summer was hot, sticky, and rainy at times. When the leaves start to loose their vibrancy, I am revealed that the heat waves are finally at their end. My stomach is taught, and my skin strains against its extended length. I'm so heavy with da'len, that Dynarin says I should have given birth at least two weeks ago. I had told him jokingly that Juno loves her mamae so much she doesn't want to leave. I'm now a bit worried that she hasn't left yet.

As I'm unable to walk for long distances easily Nona, Nehnia, Merrill and I sit at the river's edge with our feet dangling in the water. The four of us, despite the age differences – Merrill the oldest, Nehnia the youngest – have become close friends in a way.

Merrill giggles like someone closer to Nona's age as she reaches over Nehnia's lap to rub at my stomach. "Will the Keeper feel out numbered, I wonder? When Juno is born, I mean. There will be more women in his life than men. Actually, I think there's more women than men in the Gern anyway. Over half of the da'len are asha, and many of the elders are women too. The only men seem to be younger adults, or just out of their childhood, really. I wonder why that is?"

Nona shakes her head and says exasperatedly, "Merrill, you're rambling. And besides, they do not know for _certain _if the da'len is an asha." She scrunches up her nose, "It's just what they think."

I laugh outright at the disagreement that has been going on for months now, "Nona! You don't know either!"

In retaliation for my comment, Nona reaches forward and splashes a hand-full of water at my face. I gasp and start laughing so violently that my entire body shakes. I laugh until I'm out of breath, and then laugh some more. The others can't help but laugh at my laughter, and soon we're all helpless to our fits of giggles. A sharp pain in my abdomen rips through my laughter, and I gasp now at the shock of it.

"Hey," I say to the other women as I try to get their attention. "Hey!" I say a little louder, and they quiet and look towards me with concern. "I think Juno's coming."

Merrill, surprisingly, took charge right away. She told Nehnia to run and tell the Keeper what was happening, as she and Nona moved to carry me. My water broke, and I started to hurt so badly that I didn't dare try to move to stand, let alone walk. Merrill wrapped her arms under mine, and lifted me to lean my chest against her own. Nona took up my legs, careful to avoid the mess on my skirts, and the two women began to slowly carry me towards the nearby line of aravels.

Halfway there, three hunters rushed towards us. They took my weight from the struggling women, and as they started to carry me, Dynarin rushed up with his hands aglow and Nehnia right on his heels. They took me to the aravel that Dynarin and I share, and laid me onto the bed. Merrill insisted on assisting Dynarin, as she explained that she had assisted her former Keeper with deliveries before. Dynarin agreed, and sent the hunters and Nehnia out of the aravel. I remember little else clearly after that point, other than sweating, swearing, and breathing heavily for what seemed like an age. There were a few clearer periods, were I drank water or spoke in a strained voice. The pain only increased as time passed, and came to the point where I thought I would pass out.

With his hands glowing with his magic, and his brow creased in concentration, Dynarin announced then that it was time for me to push. And push I did. It felt like nothing I had ever felt before, but I wanted it over. I wanted it to be over with as soon as I began.

Finally relief cascaded through me, and I sobbed with the feeling. _It is over_. I blinked blearily with tear-stained eyes, and saw Dynarin hand a small, somewhat bloody bundle to Merrill. Dynarin told me to push again, and I did as he explained it was for the afterbirth. He cleaned me up, kissed my knee gently, and stood to go to the side of the aravel where Merrill was sitting and adjusting the fabric around the bundle. He took the bundle and ran a glowing hand over the small form.

_Our child. Our da'len. _And I started crying again. Dynarin came over to me, wrapped a hand beneath my shoulders, and handed me the small bundle. I looked down at a small, scrunched face with delicate pointed ears, and a narrow nose. Dynarin bent to kiss the corner of my mouth as he wrapped his free arm around my own holding the bundle. Looking down at the infant in my arms, he whispered, "This is Juno. She's healthy, and she's _ours_."

…...

_Note: There's going to be a major time jump next chapter! We're getting close to the time the first chapter started off at, and more Zevran! Oh, and Merrill was literally a last minute addition. I started writing and was like 'maybe I should put Merrill in somewhere...' After all, I've had mentions of Mahariel and Flemeth, so why not a little Merrill too?_

_Translations:_

_aravel: 'long journey'. - A Dalish land-ship._

_Arlathvhen: ____A meeting between all the Dalish clans that takes place every ten years._

___Abelas: 'Sorrow'. - Used as an apology._

___Sabrae: The name of Keeper Marethari's clan from DAO and DAII._

___lethallan: 'friend'. '-an' when referring to females._

___elvhen: 'our people' – Elvish name for their race._

___Ma serannas: 'My thanks'. Or: 'Thank you'._

___Eluvian: 'Mirror'_

___da'len: 'little child'_

___Mamae: 'Mother'_

___asha: 'girl'_

___Additional note: Wow! This story is getting a lot more attention than I thought it would! :D All of you readers are awesome! Thank you so for for taking the time to read!  
_


	8. Chapter 8

The past two years have gone by far quicker than I would have thought. As our people migrated with the changing seasons, our clan changed too. As more and more of the da'len entered adulthood, our clan has grown stronger as our number of adult elvhen are now near that of the Ralaferin. Our clan has always had a high number of da'len, however. And we continue to take in foundlings here and there. Dynarin does not like turn people away.

Months ago Merrill started a tentative relationship with one of our clan's huntresses, and Nona's elder sister, Penthea. Penthea is five years Nona's senior, and although same sex couples aren't necessarily _encouraged _by the Dalish, no one seems to discourage the two women's budding romance. Perhaps the stigma that Merrill had eluded to, when she had asked my opinion on her pursuit of Penthea's affections, is a result of there being so few Dalish. Relationships with the ability to procreate are more strongly encouraged by the people, it seems.

Roughly three months ago, as she turned seventeen, Nona began her own relationship with the hunter Rem. At seventeen summers, her mother couldn't refuse her interest in Rem, especially since she has completed her apprenticeship and is now a recognized seamstress. We have only two full seamstresses in our clan, including Nona, and they are always busy creating fabrics, blankets, clothing, and all other manner of cloth creations needed by the Gern.

Nehnia is now ten summers old, and as her previous Keeper had suggested, she has shown an affinity for elemental magic. Her nature spells are also quite improving, but her otherwise more specialized strengths have yet to manifest. She still has some time until the more complex and specialized magics are needed to be taught to her.

Juno, well she is two summers now. Once she grew out of the wrinkly, very little da'len stage, she had grown to have my darker hair and her father's round, hazel eyes. Juno looks very much like Dynarin, actually. But she definitely has my darker, brown hair, as opposed to her father's lighter chestnut. She is friendly, happy, and quite talkative. I have asked Dynarin if she has magic, but we simply won't know whether or not she's a mage until she is older. If she is, I'd hate to think that she may have to leave the clan at the next Arlathvhen to serve as another's Second. It is an idea of occasional worry for both myself and Dynarin.

Within the last two years, we have also taken in three seth'lin as our own: Mateo, Egan, and Wiley. All three men are former mages of the shemlen's Circles of Magi. There is a war in full force between the shemlen Templars and the shem and seth'lin mages. It is difficult to avoid being affected by the war, even though we are an ever-moving clan of elvhen. Just like clan Da'halla was attacked and destroyed by fleeing shem mages, we have received word that several clans have too been attacked when they've traveled too close to the cities that are seeing the most turmoil. In our most recent migrations, Dynarin has taken extra care to alter our routes of travel to ensure that we stay within the thickest patches of wilderness. It takes longer to travel in such a way, but it is worth it for the peace of mind it brings.

The Gern is ready to migrate yet again in preparation for the winter season. It is early in the morning, very few rays of sunlight are flitting through the trees to the ground below. I am assisting Master Wren and his two younger apprentices, Cashel and and Flynn, in dismantling our work station and seeing to the last-minute preparations of the arrows and weapons of our hunters and few warriors. Juno is with the other da'len being watched by Fellani and our only other elder, Siofra, as the remaining adults and apprentices work to prepare us for our impending travel.

Morning is in full swing when our preparations are at their end, and we're ready to move our aravels. Siofra leaves attending to the da'len to attend to our flock of halla, as always, when the families return to the fire and gather their children from their attentive listening of our history and stories from Fellani. Juno doesn't wish to leave, as she clutches at both Fellani's skirts and her friend Denni's hand. After some persuasion, and promises of stories in our aravel, Juno releases her hold on Fellani and allows Yelena to gather Denni.

I bring both Juno and Nehnia to the aravel, and Nehnia excitingly offers to play with Juno once they're settled. Our aravels are tied together in pairs, one aravel leading a second, and then we're off. Most of the adults choose to walk alongside their families' aravels, or their shared aravels, for much of our journey. It should take us several days to reach the forests of our winter lodging, although the exact amount cannot be known due to our taking an unfamiliar path in our efforts to avoid conflict.

Four days later, I had been bouncing Juno on my hip beside Dynarin and Nehnia, when the warrior Kemari at the helm of our line of aravels signals to our people to stop our procession. That's when I see it. We have stumbled upon a horrific scene in our path. There are bodies slain laying in unrecognizable heaps of charred and sliced flesh. I hand Juno to Nehnia and ask her to play with her inside the aravel, as I walk with Dynarin to the forefront of our line.

Mateo, an Antivan mage in his forties, that had been walking beside our first aravel, filled with provisions and necessary items, spoke to Dynarin as we approached. Sighing heavily he says, "Aye, but it seems the Templars have taken care of this camp of magos, no?"

_Camp?_ I see tarps of fabric ties to tree branches, some appearing to resemble canopies and others hammocks, but despite the destruction, the remnants of this place hardly resembles a camp.

Dynarin too sighs, and rubs wearily at his forehead as he calls to Kemari's wife, Yelena. "Yelena, take Penthea and Rem to scout the area. We will stay here until we can be assured of our safety."

"Ma nuvenin, Keeper," she answers as she strings her bow in preparation.

"Ma serannas."

It seems like we stand in silence beside Mateo for ages, before we hear the first rustling of branches on the far side of the 'camp'. Suddenly we hear branches snapping, a few whacks and thumps beside the telltale whistle of arrows. Kemari jumps down from his perch on the first aravel, and silently signals for the other two warriors to step forward, and the remaining hunters to prepare themselves in the shadows of the trees. Dynarin, Mateo, Merrill, Egan, and Wiley – our magical forces – draw their staffs and stand just behind and off to the side of the three warriors. Dynarin kisses my cheek and nods his head in the direction of our aravel. I frown, but nod my head in agreement and return to our aravel and Juno and Nehnia.

When I enter, I whisper to the children to stay silent, and secure a longsword to my belt. Several months ago I had forged my first blade, and decided to test its quality on a few sapling trees. Kemari had noticed my efforts, and said I seemed to have an innate talent for wielding a blade. He had offered to teach me the basics, and if need be, I'm assured I could use the blade just enough to ensure my and the children's safety.

I start to hear shouts in the distance, and then I can recognize Dynarin's voice rising above the others. There are more shouts of strangers, and my blood runs cold when I hear a woman's high-pitched scream of terror. _What is happening?_ Nehnia is clutching Juno in her arms. Her green eyes wide with fear. I push the children under the low table, and crouch in front of them with a white-knuckled grip on my first longsword.

There is a deafening sound of yelling, screaming, the clashing of metal on metal and the whistling and thumps of arrows and people falling. Minutes, maybe hours, trickle by and all I can hear are the da'len's whimpers and the blood rushing in my ears.

Suddenly the door to our aravel bursts open, and I draw my sword frantically attempting a battle-stance in my crouched state. I recognize the person in the doorway as Merrill. There is blood and bits of gore covering her face and clothes. Her skin looks ever more pale, and she seems to be visibly in pain. I distantly recognize that the palm of her hand not holding her staff is bleeding with a gash running along its length. She rushes towards me and all but yells, "We have to run! Now!"

She scoops the children out from below the table before I have the chance to react. Directly looking at my sword, she pants, "I'm out of mana. I have blood-magic, but I've already used too much of it."

I nod. Too stunned to do anything else, as I'm wondering where Dynarin is. Why he isn't here getting us, and why Merrill's in his stead. I grab her arm before she steps away, "Dynarin?" She shakes her head in the negative, and I think my heart has stopped. I gasp and sway as the meaning takes root in my mind. I know I can't think on that now though. My strength is needed. _I'm needed._

I lead us out of the aravel, and we're running into the trees as fast as we can. Merrill tells me not to look, and I listen. What I can see in front of me is horrible enough. I recognize that I'm getting tunnel-vision, the very thing that can end a warrior in the heat of battle. I'm not conscious of my surroundings, but I can hear that others are running, others are fighting, and I yell to Merrill over my shoulder, "What about the others?"

I see her clutch the children to her chest tighter, her staff strapped to her back, "The clan is lost! Most have already fled!"

I turn my attention back to the winding trees in front of me, and see the glint of steel just beyond the next tree. I stop and so does Merrill, as a tall shemlen in Templar armor smiles a depraved smile at us. He twirls his twin daggers in his hands as he sniffs the air, "Hand over the maleficar," he says and looks at me up and down leeringly, "and I'll let you go _mostly_ unharmed."

I sneer, fears of tunnel-vision and of Dynarin forgotten, as an overwhelming desire to protect those standing behind me comes to the forefront. "Ar tu na'lin emma mi!"

He laughs and the sound of it sickens me. The cocky bastard charges, and Merrill dashes to the left with the children still held firmly in her arms, despite the blood covering her form. I avoid his direct attack as Kemari had shown me. He obviously didn't expect that I would be able to move as quickly as I did with my skirts, and I use his momentary distraction to my advantage. I thrust my blade at his throat, spilling the Templar's life-blood before he has the chance to face me.

I hear a loud gasp, and then someone is shouting, "Sadie!"

I turn and see Nona, Penthea and their father. I note that their mother is not with them. They join us, and our running with Merrill and the da'len. We run until our feet ache and we're desperate for breath. We stop, and I don't know how Merrill can still be standing. She has been bleeding continually since we've left the aravel.

We're near a small stream, and there's an outcropping of rocks near it. We find a space large enough for us in the rocks, and we huddle together in silence and despair. Nehnia's eyes are red and she's shaking, but she wordlessly takes Merrill's hand and stops the bleeding with the simple healing spell she's been working on. The wound is still open, but at least Merrill won't pass out now.

Realization suddenly hits me as suddenly as if I was hit in the head, and I bury my face in Juno's hair. I don't dare cry and give our position away, but I can't help the uncontrollable shaking. _Dynarin is dead._ And those words repeat themselves endlessly like a cruel melody in my mind.

Darkness descends upon our small group, the sun setting low to give way to the stars. It's been quite some time since we've heard anything other than our strained breaths, and I decide to talk. "There should be a clan to the north. The Uaine. We should try to find them."

_…... _

_Note: I don't think I've clarified this before, but I'm assuming the Dalish get their vallaslin at puberty (around 13 or 14), and graduate from their apprenticeships at roughly 17-19 years old. The vallaslin is given when the Dalish are considered adults. Some stories on this site put the vallaslin at a later age, however. I also decided to elaborate the Dalish's views on romantic relationships that are briefly detailed on the DA wiki. But then the plot you guys! Sadness! But the story is moving along like I promised! The next update likely won't be for another two weeks or so, since my schedule has been hectic lately. Here's the translations!_

_Translations:_

_Aralthvhen: A meeting between all the Dalish clans that takes place every ten years._

_Seth'lin: __'thin blood'. - An insult directed at non-human outsiders._

___Magos: Spanish for 'mages'._

___Ma nuvenin: 'As you wish'_

___Ma serannas: 'My thanks'. Or: 'Thank you'._

___Ar tu na'lin emma mi: 'I will see your blood on my blade'_


	9. Chapter 9

The sun starts rising above the horizon casting an eerie golden-cream colored glow on the surrounding black rocks we've made as our shelter near the tiny, trickling stream. All is silent as I focus on the sounds of that stream, in an effort to focus my mind on something other than my inner turmoil. I hear the occasional sniffle coming from Nehnia or Nona, as Juno is far too young to truly understand what has just happened. Taregan, Nona and Penthea's father, has been awake all night just as I have been. Both of his daughters, despite being young-adults themselves, had curled against him in their sleep with their dark heads resting on the thin linen of his tunic. Merrill is curled along Penthea's back, her head resting on her lover's shoulder. Nehnia and Juno are sleeping with their heads on my thigh, curled together protectively between myself and Nona.

Not long after, everyone has risen with the ever-growing sunlight. I brush the hair out of Juno's face as she looks around as though she's confused where we are. "Mamae!" She pulls on my sleeve, "Where Adda?"

I kiss her forehead and draw her onto my lap, "Do you remember hearing about Fen'Harel from Fellani?"

She scrunches her nose as she tries to remember, "Big bad wolf?" I nod.

I sigh and pat her hair as I continue, "Adda's with Fen'Harel."

Her eyes widen and she frowns, "Why?"

"Your Adda loves you very much da'vhenan," I explain. "But you can't come back when you're with Fen'Harel. Adda can't come back."

Her eyes water, "I want Adda!" I hug her to myself and stroke her hair. She's far too young to understand death. "Adda!" Her pleas are muffled by my tunic as her small hands clutch my vest.

As I'm comforting my daughter, Nehnia starts to get upset again, and Nona attempts to comfort her too. Once the da'len have calmed down, Penthea gets up and crouches before me, "We should move. The Templar have probably stripped our aravels, and may be looking for stragglers now that it's light."

I nod and move to stand as the others too get up. I rub Juno's back as I say, "We should try to find something to eat. At least for the young ones."

We walk slowly but efficiently, all of us weary from yesterday, as we make our way north. It's mid-day by the time we feel safe enough to talk. We come across a pond not long after, and Taregan, being our clan's hearthkeeper charged with the preparation of most of our food, asks Nona to help him show the da'len how to gather cattails and edible aquatic plants. I set Juno down, and take the opportunity to speak to Penthea and Merrill. The two women's arms are linked together, with Penthea helping to keep Merrill steady as her reserves of energy have yet to replenish themselves in her self-injured and exhausted state.

"What happened?" I ask, "How did the shemlen overwhelm us?"

Penthea briefly looks to Merrill, before deciding to speak first, "The Templar caught Yelena, and we tried to stop them, but," she swallowed heavily and looked briefly at her sister's back, "They killed Rem. I had to double-back, and when I got to the aravels the shemlen were standing before our people with Yelena on her knees as they beat her in front of her mate and everyone." She broke her gaze from mine, and turned to look at the ground, "The Keeper tried to reason with them. But... they weren't hearing that. Said we had too many mages for them to turn a blind eye. They... cut off Yelena's ear, before they... killed her. Kemari... He charged, then everyone... The shemlen focused on the mages, though. They mostly ignored everyone else... until..."

Merrill spoke up then, "I had to break my promise, and use blood magic, or... or I would've died too." She started twisting her hands in front of her, "I had to find you and the da'len. If-if it wasn't for you and the Keeper letting me stay, I don't know what would've happened to me two years ago."

We stood in silence as I buried my face in my hands. I couldn't believe what I had just heard. But there was one thing I needed to hear, despite my knowing the truth of the matter, I have to hear it. "How," my voice cracked, "How did Dynarin... die?"

Penthea shook her head, "No, lethallan. No. You don't want to know."

"_Please!_" I beg, "I must know!"

Penthea steps forward and puts a hand on my shoulder. She's still shaking her head as she says, "Abelas, lethallan. Abelas."

Not long after the children have eaten what they could find at the pond's edge, we begin our north-bound trek once more. We come across a beaten, dirt path, and despite our reservations, we decide to travel along it for a time. We have hopes that we will find a merchant's caravan, and could trade our meager belongings for blankets and provisions.

It's several hours later, when after picking some flowers along the road with Nehnia's encouragement, Juno pulls on my skirts and says, "I hungry Mamae."

I scoop her up, and smooth back her hair, "We'll find food soon da'len."

Roughly a half an hour later, there's what sounds like an animal's whines and muffled speech below the hill we've walked up on the path. "I... think I hear people ahead." I stop walking and so does everyone else.

Nehnia cups her ears, "Really?" She strains to hear, "I can't hear anything!" She pouts, then giggles, "You hear so good you could hear a mouse fart, I bet!"

Penthea hushes her, "What should we do, Sadie?"

I look at the huntress critically, "You watch everyone, and I'll go take a look."

She shakes her head, but before she can say anything, her father interrupts, "I'll go with you. If anything," he pauses, "A woman shouldn't go by herself, especially if they're shemlen."

I nod, "Penthea, your skills are needed here. With everyone." I motion towards the line of trees, "Now go. Watch everyone." I point at her pale blue vallaslin, "Protect them, like Mythal."

She nods respectfully, but before she moves off, she hands her father a slim knife from her boot. Taregan and I head down the hill, to see two male shem and a female attempting to right a cart, as one of its wheels lay next to their feet. Their donkey is off to the side, tied to a tree and baying in distress.

I pull on Taregan's elbow and whisper, "Perhaps if we help them, they may give us supplies in return."

He nods, and I step forward towards the female. Taregan is just behind me as I reach out to touch her shoulder, "Excuse me messe-" I'm cut off as she turns and pushes me back.

"Who're blighted flames are you?" she yells.

The two men stop what they're doing to stare at us angrily. One of them say, "Look at 'em tattoos! They them Dalish! They bandits, they are!"

I hold up my hands, "No, we're-" I don't get a single word out more, as the two men charge us. I'm punched in the jaw by one with a dagger in his hand, and he cuts my forearm twice as I block his next attack. I can hear Taregan in a scuffle with the other shem, but I can't offer him aid as I struggle to remove my longsword.

I get it free and put my other hand out, "Stop!" I try to say, "We're not bandits!"

He snorts and charges me again. He's larger than the Templar from yesterday, and I have more difficulty with him, especially as I'm not trying to kill him. Just thinking about my _first kill _makes bile rise in my throat. I don't want to kill these ignorant fools.

As I dodge the shem's next charge, I turn in time to see an arrow pierce his eye, and his momentum lurch him forward as he falls to the ground dead. I look for Taregan, and see the other shem crouched above him, punching him in the face relentlessly. That shem receives two arrows. One to the chest, and one in the shoulder.

I hear Penthea's voice boom down the hill as she calls her father's name, and turn to see her bow pulled taught and an arrow pointed at the female shem. The female falls on her knees, "Please! Maker please!"

Penthea reluctantly relaxes her bow, and makes her way down the hill and towards her father. We silently lift Taregan onto our shoulders, and make our way up the hill, with female shemlen's cries at our backs.

Penthea leads us through the trees to an area with many smaller hills, and a cave at the foot of one. We set her father down, and Nona rushes over.

"Adda!" She calls to him, "What happened sister?"

"Shemlen," Penthea snarls.

Merrill manages to put Taregan to sleep with one of her spells, and Nehnia is able to also stop his bleeding. His face is bloody, his nose broken, and several ribs are cracked and broken as well. His right arm is useless, dislocated and cracked at the shoulder. Nehnia offers to heal my forearm as much as she can too, and afterwards she falls into a fitful sleep from all the mana she's spent.

Nona is watching Juno as I lead Penthea and Merrill to the lip of the small cave. "He needs real healing," I say concerned.

Penthea frowns, "The shemlen might have elfroot or a healing potion." She nods to herself, "Yes. I'll go check." The huntress bounds off before either myself or Merrill can say anything of her plan.

Penthea returns some moments later with a bundle of fabric in her arms. "The shemlen asha has fled and striped the cart and took the donkey. I was able to find some bread and cheese, blankets and cloaks."

I sigh and rub at my forehead, "Since the shem were here, there must be a town or village nearby. Perhaps we can trade for a healing poultice."

"_We _can't go anywhere," Penthea says, "But I can go."

"Emma vhenan," Merrill starts, but I interrupt.

"No, you will stay, and I'll go." Penthea furrows her eyebrows and makes to speak, but I continue, "You are a _huntress_. You can feed and ensure the safety of the others as I go."

"Neither of you should go alone," Merrill says.

I shake my head, "You're still weak Merrill, and in no shape to fight. Nona doesn't know how to fight. And Nehnia and Juno are just da'len. Penthea is capable of ensuring all of your safeties, as I am not. I can protect myself enough though."

Merrill frowns, but Penthea nods, "Very well, lethallan. You should leave in the morning, and take advantage of the light. It's too close to dark now."

Merrill sighs, but also nods, "Tonight, before you leave, we should also honor our dead. We can't bury them... but we should do something."

We find a sapling tree, and plant it over an empty grave that Merrill is able to dig with the nature magic she is able to gather from her small mana pool. Taregan is still unconscious, but Nona and Penthea honor their mother's passing with a few small wreaths of wildflowers on the tree's branches. Merrill ties her green scarf around the tree's trunk, and Juno, Nehnia and I surround the tree with small, smooth stones we were able to find nearby. Merrill sings Uthenera for the departed, and we bow our heads as the solemn words wash over us. When Merrill is finished with the eulogy, I feel compelled to sing the song Suledin:

_Melava inan enansal  
ir su araval tu elvaral  
u na emma abelas  
in elgar sa vir mana  
in tu setheneran din emma na_

_lath sulevin_  
_lath araval ena_  
_arla ven tu vir mahvir_  
_melana 'nehn_  
_enasal ir sa lethalin_

The others join me after I recite the first line, and once we are done, we all fall silent. I'm grasping Juno's hand, silent tears falling down my face, when a memory comes unbidden to my mind.

"_There will be a day... Din mahvir. Mana... Where you sing suledin vhenan. Sulahn suledin vhenan. Sulahn suledin vhenan." An old woman with silver hair and ethereal eyes chants. She shakes her head and says, "You will need to search for the Grand Oak then da'len. Only the Oak can tell you how to stop singing. Only the Oak can tell you how to find the answer to your question..."_

That woman... _She prophesied this!_ She knew this would happen!

I clutch Juno's hand tighter, but don't say anything of my revelation. I don't know what it means for us, for me. But we are all still grieving. Worry over the elder's words must come later. There are far more pressing issues to attend to now.

I prepare to leave early in the morning at first light. I'm taking one of the smaller cloaks with me and some hard cheese, and the others have promised to look after Juno and Nehnia while I'm gone. I've told then that if I'm not back by the morning of the fifth day, then they must do what they need to to get to the Uaine. I set off after I've kissed Juno's brow, as she lays peacefully sleeping cuddled with Nehnia.

Two days later I'm alone and it is raining fast, icy raindrops. Winter is threatening to come on this dark night, as I'm desperately looking for shelter. I come across yet another person in need of aid, as they struggle with their stuck horse and cart in the rain. I'm cautious as I approach the horse's master, but offer aid all the same. After I help restore the horse and cart to the dirt road with reluctant assistance from the horse's master, the horse's master introduces himself.

And I _know _him.

He's Zevran Arainai.

…...

_Note: Guys! So this update was -a lot- quicker than I thought it would be! All thanks to my awesome philosophy professor changing the due date of our essay! Why use the extra time to work on an essay, when I can write fanfiction? lol. :P Next update though, won't be until after finals. But! We're at the end of the flashback period and back to the time the first chapter started off at! And Zevran has finally entered the picture! :D_

_Translations:_

_Mamae: 'Mother'_

_Adda: Non-canon elvish word for 'Father'_

_Fen'Harel: the Dread Wolf, Lord of Tricksters, Roamer of the Beyond and bringer of nightmares._

_da'vhenan: 'little heart'_

_Abelas: __'Sorrow'. - Used as an apology._

_asha: 'girl'_

_Emma vhenan: 'My heart'_

_Uthenera: The elvish eulogy._

_Lyrics to Suledin: Very roughly translated as: 'Time was once a blessing. / But long journeys are made longer / When alone within. / Take spirit from the long ago. / But do not dwell in lands no longer yours. / Be certain in need, / And the path will emerge / To a home tomorrow. / And time will again / Be the joy it once was.'_

_Din mahvir: __'Not tomorrow'_

_Mana: __'Long amount of time'_

_Sulahn suledin vhenan: __'Sing the song Suledin for the heart'_


	10. Chapter 10

Zevran raises an eyebrow at my slack-jawed expression, and I work to quickly wipe it off my face. I straighten, and attempt to introduce myself, "I-I am Sadie. Sadie Ba of the Gern."

His other brow joins its brother up near his hairline, "So, you are Dalish then, no? I had suspected but was not sure. I apologize, for I have not heard of the Gern clan. From where do your people hail?"

"S-south of here. Not far. We migrate... migrated mostly from east to west and back again." It hurts to have to correct my tense.

"'Migrated'," he quotes and frowns. "You speak of it as the past. Are your people no more?"

I turn my head towards the ground headless of the rain. He's asking an honest question, yet it is difficult to speak of. It is still so fresh."F-four d-days ago our clan was... was attacked by shemlen Templars. Most did not survive." Suddenly I look into his light brown eyes and hold his gaze with hope shining in my own, "My friends' father was injured badly yesterday when we tried to talk to a shemlen family, and my friend's lover was weakened badly in the fight with the Templars. Do you... do you know of where I can find a healing poultice or two? I left them to find aid."

He frowns deeper, and his eyes hold a sadness to them from hearing my tale. "Ah, but the war with the magi and Templar have affected so many." He rests a hand on my shoulder lightly in comfort, "I happen to have an injury kit, a little elfroot, and three healing poultices. You may have as much as you need Sadie Ba of the Gern, for helping me here with my horse."

My mouth opens and closes a few times before I can speak. From my memories, I know Zevran is of a good sort, despite his often overwhelming flirtations and rakish tendencies. He seems... tempered. Different from what I remember of him, though what I remember is little. And I can't help but wonder at why, like Merrill, I know of him yet he does not know of me. Not once has he seemed to recognize me. Has it truly been so long since I've seen these people, that any recollection of me is lost to time? Or is it something else? Perhaps I just think I know these people, and am lucky when recounting the things I remember? My past injuries make for so much uncertainty in my past, yet I did remember Ostagar. I'm sure I did. That battle, those darkspawn, I've seen them.

"I-I couldn't possibly accept that without paying you... something. They are worth far more than helping you get out of the mud." I lift my hair and remove the carved hand-shaped hairpin from behind my ear, and hold it out in the flat of my palm. "This is ironbark. It should cover the cost."

He shakes his head, and closes my hand with his own over the hairpin. "I know I am what your people call a flat-ear, but I can tell this is an important thing. Especially with that bonding scar on your hand, sí? Your mate wouldn't want you to give up such a precious memento."

My eyes start welling with tears, and I can see him try to fight a grimace. He places his other hand atop our folded hands and whispers just loud enough to be heard over the pattering rain. "Your mate did not survive the attack on your people, mi dulce?"

I shake my head, "No... No, Dynarin... He..." I break off as tears start streaming down my face in earnest.

"Shh," Zevran says to me as he pulls me into an one-armed hug. "I am sorry, mi dulce. Lo siento."

He pulls away from me after a few moments, his eyes looking over my face as if searching for something. We are both soaked now from the icy rain. My face wet and red from rain and tears. He sighs and smooths loose blond hairs back from his forehead. I don't know what he is thinking, but the concern that flashes across his face is enough to make me want to cry again.

"What are your plans after you have healed those injured in your party?"

"We're," I swallow roughly before continuing. "We're heading to a clan in the north. The Uaine. They will offer us sanctuary."

He nods as if making a decision, "I will escort your people north then, to ensure no more become injured."

"But," my brow furrows in confusion, "surely you have plans of your own. Why would you bother to escort a group of Dalish?"

He shrugs, "In truth, I am wandering. I do not have a home of my own, and... it is better if I do not stay in one place for too long. North sounds just fine, mi bonita. And it would be my pleasure to escort you."

His last sentence sounds like it has a double-meaning, but it is just in his nature to say such things. He's trying to lighten the mood. And it worked. I smile genuinely at him, "My companions are staying in a cave that's a two day's walk from here."

He nods and turns towards his cart, as he begins to tether the horse. "We will take my cart. We'll make better time then, I believe."

Over the next day and a half I travel with Zevran back towards the cave I had first set off from. He asks me many questions, and I get the feeling that he is curious about the Dalish. He tells me that he had once joined a Dalish clan in his youth, but found he was not fit for such a life. I tell him about Juno, and stories of her misadventures. He smiles and laughs with me, and confesses that he did not have much of a childhood back in Antiva. I ask him about it, and with some gentle prodding, he tells me he was raised by whores after his Dalish mother had died and later by Crows. I confess to him that I have very few memories of my past before being found by the Gern, and the first memories I really have are of Dynarin. We share our sympathies, our laughter, and tales of your lives until this point. When he tells me about his time with the Wardens during the Blight, I do not tell him that I know he was a companion of the Hero. I do tell him that he seems familiar, and he laughs and asks if I've been in a tavern or brothel recently.

When we reach the area near the cave, he tethers his horse's lead off the road in an area surrounded thickly by trees. He puts the injury kit, elfroot, and healing poultices into a pack, along with surpluses of food and two canteens filled to the brim with water.

We purposefully snap branches along our trek to the cave, so the others know of our approach. I hear Penthea's voice ring out, "Hold strangers. Come no further or you will feel my arrows."

"Penthea!" I yell out, "It's Sadie! Din harel seth'lin. Seth'lin falon."

"Sadie?" She sounds shocked. Did the huntress not think I'd return?

"We have healing poultices, elfroot, and bandages," I reply to her silent question.

I see the huntress step out from the trees. She looks haggard, with dark circles beneath her eyes visible under her already dark skin. "Thank the Creators, lethallan." She looks at Zevran with narrowed eyes. "Who is the flat-ear?"

Zevran doesn't miss a beat, and bows dramatically, "I am Zevran Arainai, and I have offered my services to our dear Sadie."

Her eyes narrow further, "I will be watching you _seth'lin_. Try anything, and you will feel my blade."

"Oh? I do think I would rather like it if you watched me," he replies with a sly smirk.

I interrupt before Penthea can snap at him. "How is your _lover_, lethallan? Is _she_ still weak?" I put emphasis on 'lover' and 'she', hoping that Zevran will catch the hint.

The huntress's sharp gaze softens slightly, "Emm'asha has improved, but her wounds still look horrid. She is watching the children."

"And your father?"

"He sleeps much, and is in great pain."

I nod, "We'll help them right now then."

She smiles at me, "Juno will be happy to see her mamae. She has missed you."

As soon as we step into view of the cave, Juno runs from her seat next to the fire and wraps her tiny arms around my legs. I kneel to the ground and wrap my arms around her tiny body as she whimpers and cries 'mamae' over and over again. I feel tears come to my eyes, since my daughter's pitiful cries are breaking my heart. She has missed me so much, but I had to leave and find aid. I carry her towards the others, and I hear Zevran's voice from behind me call out,

"Weren't you a friend of the Champion's, my dear?"

I see Merrill's head whip up at the Antivan's words, and her face break out into a smile as recognition settles over her face, "Oh! You were Isabela's assassin friend, weren't you? But what are you doing out here?"

"Assassin," Penthea spits and rounds to glare at me. "You brought an assassin into our camp?"

"Emma vhenan," Merrill says and gets up a lot less stiffly than before. She settles a hand on her lover's shoulder. "He's not an assassin anymore. He quit, and he's rather nice. Isabela seemed to like him a lot. As did Hawke."

Penthea continues to glower, her hands clenching into fists, as she stares at her feet for a moment before meeting Merrill's gaze, "I'll trust you, emm'asha. If you say it is safe for him to be here, then I trust your judgment."

"Ma serannas. Ma'arlath."

"Ma'arlath," Penthea replies and kisses Merrill lightly on her cheek.

"Come," Merrill reaches out to Zevran, "I assume you have what we need to heal Taregan, falon?"

After Taregan and Merrill are healed, and everyone is fed to bursting, we decide restart our travel north in the morning. Penthea sets off to hunt for many hours, hoping to kill a deer, rabbits, and fowl to give us a variety and enough food for travel. Zevran, myself, and Juno, although the da'len cannot do much, bring the cart closer to the cave and work with bowls to fill a barrel full of water. Juno was immediately curious about the horse, and even bestowed a name onto him, Da'dorf, for the color of his coat. Taregan is sleeping, due to the effects of one and a half healing poultices, so Merrill, Nona, and Nehnia prepare sleeping pallets and gather the remainder of our supplies into bundles and pack them away in the cart. It does not take long to pack our things, since we have so few.

We end the night late, despite our travel plans for the next day, and everyone is in much lighter spirits, even Penthea when she returns from hunting. With Zevran entertaining the da'len, and, well, everyone with his elaborate stories of adventure, I realize that this is the happiest I've seen everyone since the tragedy that had befallen our people. I pray to Mythal and the Creators to guide us in our journey, and ensure our safeties to the Uaine. My encounter with Zevran on the road was a blessing, of that I am sure.

...

_Note: Sorry for the -very- delayed update! I had a very, very busy end of the semester at uni – and then I've been swamped with graduation things (meetings, celebrations and the like)! I also started a new project for fanfiction, and unfortunately had to put this story on the back-burner for a bit to tend to that one's formulation and creation of it's first chapter. The story is called Tenebrae, and it's a DAO story surrounding Fala Mahariel, Riordan, Alistair, and Zevran primarily. The idea for it came from the author Apollo Wings. Now that I've discussed/deliberated Tenebrae aplenty with my beta-reader for it, FalconHawk, this story will pick up as normal for updates. I expect this story to be updated every week to every two-weeks, Tenebrae every week, and One More Hawke every week. This story doesn't have very many chapters left comparably as my other two, so its updates will be slower as a consequence. This story will not have the fifty+ chapters that One More Hawke does. I'm extraordinarily sorry for the late update! I give you all hugs for hanging in there!_

_Translations:_

_sí: Spanish for 'yes'_

_mi dulce: Spanish for 'my sweet'_

_Lo siento: Spanish for 'I'm sorry'_

_mi bonita: Spanish for 'my pretty'_

_Din harel seth'lin: 'Do not fear the thin blood'_

_Seth'lin falon: 'The thin blood is a friend'_

_Emm'asha: 'My girl'_

_Emma vhenan: 'My heart'_

_Ma serannas: 'My thanks'. Or: 'Thank you'_

_Ma'arlath: 'I love you'_

_Da'dorf: 'Little grey'_


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